


Soothing the Savage Beast

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: AU, Alternate Universes, Angst, First Times, Holiday, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 07:31:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/795463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blair gets away from it all to clear his head, but he can't get away from what he needs most.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soothing the Savage Beast

## Soothing the Savage Beast

by Silk

Author's website:  <http://www.angelfire.com/ny4/tinsel/>

All things Sentinel belong to Pet Fly and Paramount, not me. This work is not for profit.

My thanks to the wonderful Mongoosians for their continued encouragement and support. If there were only more people like them, what a joy life would be all the time. Special thanks to Lisa, Patt, Mary, Amy and Audrey. As always, this is for Tinn.

This originally appeared in The Many Halloween Tales of the Sentinel, a My Mongoose E-zine.

* * *

Soothing the Savage Beast 

By Silk 

Know what my favorite holiday is? Nah, it's not Christmas. I'm a nice Jewish boy. What do I know from Christmas? 

It's Halloween. Bet you never guessed that one. I know, you're asking yourself if it's because there are so many intriguing pagan rituals built around that particular holiday. Or is it because from an anthropological standpoint, it's a cultural extravaganza? 

In a word, no. 

It's because last Halloween, I went on a camping trip to end all camping trips. 

* * *

Last Fall, I was in no shape to compete in the daily battle of "You and Me Against the World". Frankly, I was tired. Tired of working on a dissertation that I knew I was never going to publish. Tired of hearing "Stay in the truck, Sandburg" when I knew I had something more to contribute to the team than just good cheekbones and killer hair. 

But most of all, I was tired of waiting. Waiting for my roommate to fall in love with me. 

Now you gotta realize that Jim Ellison is a trifle slow on the uptake sometimes. He's a terrific detective with the Cascade PD. Observant as all get out. He works in Major Crime, where else? I mean, it's a meat-and-potatoes kinda department and Jim, well, Jim's a meat-and-potatoes kinda guy. 

Hmm...where does that leave me? Mr. Would-you-like-some-ostrich-chili-to-go-with-your-algae-shake? 

Oh, we worked well together. Despite the fact that I didn't (and still don't) have official standing with the PD, I was hired as an observer and partnered with Jim. I use the term "hired" loosely. I've never been paid. Nor have I ever been reimbursed for damages to my car, my belongings...my person. 

That's right. I was getting shot at, kidnapped, and blown up on a fairly regular basis, but I was just supposed to go with the flow. Oh, it wasn't that nobody cared what happened to me. Jim _cared_. But he didn't care the way I wanted him to. 

I would have endured anything to stay with him. In fact, I _did_. He treated me like a brother, a best friend, and an unequal partner out in Copland. He ruffled my hair, but more than that, he ruffled my nerves. 

I loved him. I needed him. And oh, God, I wanted him. 

But as I was saying, I was tired. I had almost four years invested in this relationship; I wasn't about to give up without a fight. Only thing was, I didn't know how much fight I still had in me. 

I needed to get away. Alone. Without Jim. So I could think. Make decisions. Do all the horrible, pointless things that people do when they hurt and they don't know how to make the hurt go away. Except by leaving. 

He didn't take it well. 

* * *

"Jim, I'm not leaving permanently," I explained as I packed. Packing made Jim uneasy. So he paced. 

"Why can't I come with you?" Jim asked. No, actually, it was more like a whine. The whine of a little boy who expected his Velveteen Rabbit to stay fresh and intact until he grew up. 

"I told you, I need to think." 

"And you can't do that when I'm around? Sandburg, you're full of shit. I've seen you concentrate on algorithms and standard deviations while you're channeling Alice in Chains through your headphones." 

I couldn't say anything to that. It was true. What can I say? I'm a talented guy. 

But as you might have guessed, my mordant wit frequently hides a vulnerability that even I'm not completely comfortable with. I wasn't sure I wanted Jim to know that about me. 

"I have to go." 

Jim looked like he was poleaxed. I rarely defied him and never openly. I was no stranger to sticking up for my own beliefs, mind you. I have always tried to have the courage of my convictions. But Jim was confronting Sandburg in Immovable Object Mode and I have to say, he didn't look as though he liked it. 

"You'll, um, uh...you'll be back, though, right, Chief?" Jim's voice was so husky, but I was sure I was imagining the underlying emotion there. 

How could I answer that? I didn't know myself. I knew what my heart told me. It was willing to put up with anything, including being Jim's funky little sidekick, forever and ever, Amen, if it meant being close to Jim. 

"I'll be in touch, Jim," I said quietly, realizing that came out sounding like a bad kiss-off from a girl who was trying to let her boyfriend down easy. 

"You charged up the cell phone, right?" God, Jim sounded anxious. He really didn't want to let me out of his sight. Too bad, he didn't want to let me into his bed. 

"Yes, Jim." 

"You're bringing extra batteries?" 

"Yes, Jim." 

"Don't go too deep into the woods, Chief. There are wild animals where you're going." 

"I know, Jim." 

"I'll be waiting for you to call me. So don't forget." 

"I know, Jim." 

"I wouldn't want-" Jim was distinctly unhappy. I could feel the tension coming off him in waves. And I wasn't even a Sentinel. He must have had his senses dialed up in order to get "Good to the Last Drop" Sandburg on the old Sentinel hard drive in his head. Instant replay was never like this on TV. 

"What, man?" 

Jim shook his head. "Nothing. Just call, okay?" 

"Okay." 

"And Chief?" 

I couldn't make out that enigmatic look in Jim's eyes. It was either "Don't go" or "Don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out". There was lots of territory between those two, though, with no room for error. I couldn't afford to guess. So I choked back emotion so thick it was strangling me and waved goodbye. 

Christ, I felt like I was leaving my heart there. 

* * *

I drove like a madman, determined to get to where I wanted to camp as soon as possible. No, I told myself, it _wasn't_ because I was afraid I'd give in. Okay, it _was_. But I'm a practical guy. I knew when to hold 'em, when to fold 'em, when to walk away and when to run. And God knew I was running. 

Well, shit. That's one helluva philosophy, huh? That's what I got for listening to a country music station for four hours straight. Kenny Rogers was starring in the Vegas show of a lifetime in my head. 

The Volvo, classic car that it is, huffed and puffed its way up the mountain like the Little Engine That Could. When I got to the cabin, I pulled into the driveway, flung the car door open, and just stood there, breathing hard. You would have thought I had run up there on foot. 

I leaned forward, my hands on my bent knees, and struggled not to hyperventilate. Sweat was pouring down my face. At least, that's what I thought that wetness was. It couldn't have been tears. I never cried. Well, hardly ever. And besides, what did I have to cry about? I hadn't decided anything yet. 

Had I? 

My stomach growled and my mind suddenly became preoccupied with more mundane matters like food. Before I left Cascade, I had every intention of fishing for my dinner. But all at once a bag of Cool Ranch-flavored Doritos sounded great. That left me plenty of time to gather kindling, build a fire in the fireplace, shake out my sleeping bag and think. Right before I crashed. 

I unpacked the car and brought my dufflebag and my sleeping bag into the cabin. I'm a great camper, but I like the woods to stay outside where God meant it to be, if you catch my drift. I mean, I like rustic, but I wasn't looking to make a major lifestyle change, y'know? 

Ever since I endured the rain from Hell when Jim and I were tracking Quinn, I've preferred my world warm and dry whenever possible. I mean, I love the outdoors. I just don't want to sleep there. 

The cabin itself was a stroke of luck. Otherwise, I would have been roughing it in a tent. One of the TA's at Rainier owed me a favor for taking his class and I called in that favor as soon as I found out that his family had a cabin in a fairly remote area. 

It was already getting dark when I finished gathering the wood for the fire. I was bone-tired by then, and I wanted nothing more than to shower and go to bed. I got the fire started and then stayed on my knees, mesmerized by the flickering light. 

If I had been a Sentinel, I would have zoned. As it was, I still think part of me _was_ zoned. One moment I was watching the flames dance, the next moment I was jolted out of whatever reverie I'd been having by a loud hiss and a crackle as a small piece of wood fell out of the fireplace and onto the hearth. 

Obviously I was fresh out of common sense because the next thing I did was to grab the piece of wood with my bare hands. I swore colorfully in a couple of ancient languages. Being an anthropologist has been relatively helpful that way. Anyone can scream bloody murder. But an arcane epithet or two impresses the hell out of people without offending them. 

I flew into the bathroom where I thanked God for amenities like plumbing and ran cold water over my hands until they started to turn blue. They didn't blister, but it was a near thing. There went my original plan to write in my personal journal by firelight. 

I mean, Abraham Lincoln read by candlelight and look where he ended up. President. Oh, yeah, he was assassinated, too, but that came later. After he reaped the benefits of all that reading. Oh. Getting shot in the head wasn't exactly a benefit, was it? 

My hands were too sore to do much of anything. So I opted to sleep. Of course, that was before I actually asked my body what it wanted. Sigh. _It_ wanted to stay up all night despite a level of fatigue I hadn't felt since...well, since Alex. 

That did it. I was now officially up for the night. Once I started ruminating about Alex, there was no sense in even trying to sleep. Alex. Poor misunderstood, misguided Alex. She created her own problems faster than she could solve them. She wasn't searching for love _or_ understanding, though. She was looking for a quick score. 

I hated the way Alex took over Jim. I could hide behind all the scientific explanations in the world, but I was lying to myself. I was jealous. I didn't care if it was a territorial imperative or just Jim's tendency to fall for the wrong woman every fucking time. I didn't want Jim to love her. I wanted him to love _me_ , and how could he do that when he was trying to fuck _her_? 

I told myself that it didn't matter that it was Alex, that it would have hurt just as much if Jim fell in love with _anyone_ but me. But that was a lie. It hurt a hundred times worse because it was Alex. Because she was a Sentinel. Because she was female. Because she was everything I wasn't. Because she murdered me. 

No matter how I put that into words, it sucked. Jim wanted to fuck the woman who killed me. How unforgivable was that? On a scale of one to ten, it was fifteen. 

But that was behind us now. He didn't fuck Alex. Alex didn't know the meaning of restraint so she evolved beyond us ordinary humans into God, before our very eyes, and she couldn't handle the job. Like I said, misguided. Pun intended. 

I really didn't expect to sleep. But somewhere around 3:00 am, I must have hit the limit of my endurance. I fell into an uneasy doze, but at least I was warm and dry. 

When I woke up, it was just past dawn. My bladder was full, thanks to three thermoses of Colombia's finest the previous day. I padded into the bathroom, half-awake, half-naked, too, realizing that if I wanted to, I could use up all the fucking hot water. For some damn reason, that just made me miss Jim and his house rules. 

I finished up, washed my hands, wincing a bit because they were still sore. Would I be able to hold a fishing pole? Looked like I was going to have to give it a try or go hungry. I was fresh out of Doritos. 

When I was dressed in my most faded, most raggedy jeans, jeans I wouldn't be caught dead wearing in Cascade, I was ready. I grabbed my pole and my tackle box and clambered down the porch steps at a clip. That was when it happened. 

Remember how when you were a kid, your Mom always told you not to run with something in your hands because you could poke someone's eye out with that thing? My Mom taught me better. I just didn't listen. 

Suddenly I stubbed my toe on something. Something big. I put out both hands to break the inevitable fall and nearly impaled myself on the fishing pole. It would have been funny if I hadn't landed on my ass, my hair tangled up in fishing line. I looked like a connect the dots picture with all the dots connected. Randomly. 

I scrambled to get up, but something snagged my jeans from behind. It felt like the seat of my jeans was caught by a fishing hook. "Oh, mannnn..." 

"Oh, God? I could really use an extra pair of hands right about now," I prayed out loud. 

No sooner did I think it than it was done. 

Two improbably strong hands grabbed me around my waist. "Like these, Chief?" 

"What are you doing here, man? You promised to let me come up here by myself." 

"And you did. Did I drive up here with you?" 

"Jim!" I squeaked. "That was almost an...an...obfuscation, for God's sake." 

"I was worried, Chief. You never called." 

"I didn't? Oh, fuck, I didn't. I fell asleep. Oh, Jim, I'm sorry." 

"I'm glad you're okay, Chief." 

Shit, the world must have tilted on its axis or something. Jim still had his hands on my waist and I wasn't about to ask him to remove them. But he must have realized that he was holding me inordinately close and...oh, well, better luck next time. 

"Um, Jim? One question, though. What were you doing out here?" 

"Guarding the perimeter, Sandburg. Isn't that what Sentinels are supposed to do?" 

"Well, yeah. But couldn't you do that from _inside_ just as well, considering how good your hearing is?" 

"That was sarcasm, right? You complained that you couldn't take me with you because I made it impossible for you to think. Where else would I be but outside?" 

"You mean you don't have the sense to know when to come in out of the rain, Jim?" 

"Funny, Sandburg. I didn't think you _wanted_ me here. I tried to keep from following you, but I-" 

"What?" 

"I just couldn't help it, Chief." 

Wow. I am Sandburg. Hear me roar. I haven't had this much power since...I've never had this much power. 

"You can come in, man. Just...stay on your side of the cabin." 

"Why?" 

"Cause I still need to think. So keep your raucous thoughts, and I know you have 'em, Jim, to yourself, okay?" 

Predictably, Jim grumbled. "It's not like we're talking about a huge piece of property here." 

"My way or the highway, Ellison." 

Jim nodded. His pale blue eyes shifted away uneasily when I glanced at him. Was he up to something? And if he was, could I be in on it? 

"So...you hungry?" 

"I could eat." 

"Start untangling me. If there's any fishing line left by the time you get me loose, we can fish." 

* * *

It was like slow torture. Jim used my Swiss Army knife to cut the hook out of my ragbag jeans, but it looked like it was going to take an Act of Congress to free my hair. 

"Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow!" 

"Stop squirming, Chief." 

"Then stop hurting me." 

"I don't want to hurt you, Chief. I never mean to. I just-" 

As fate would have it, he gave my hair a particularly cruel yank and as much as I wanted to hear what he was going to say, I was destined to scream instead. 

"Dammit, Jim, are you trying to remove all my hair?" 

"No," Jim said, a little bit too quickly, if you asked me, as if he'd been anticipating the question. "I love your hair." 

"You. Love. My. Hair?" 

Jim shrugged. "Along with certain other parts of your body which shall remain nameless, yeah." 

"Oh, no, you don't. You don't get away with a comment like that. You explain yourself, Detective." 

A faint smile traced those lips I fantasized about. "I don't think so, Chief. We've got some fishing to do." 

"I'm going to get you for this, Jim." 

"I look forward to it." 

* * *

My jeans had even more holes than they started out with. That didn't bother me, but I had a feeling that it bothered Jim. I mean, we've seen each other in various stages of undress throughout the past few years. It comes with the territory when two men are sharing a loft, one and a half (I refuse to call a futon and a dresser a full anything) bedrooms and a bathroom. 

But suddenly Jim was studiously avoiding eye contact. He claimed he was concentrating on the fish we weren't catching. But I could see that all that bare skin was making him uncomfortable. 

"All right, Jim, do you want me to go change my clothes?" I finally snapped. 

"Huh? No, Sandburg. I'm just the point man, remember? This is your time away from ho-Cascade. You go right ahead and think." 

"I can't when you're ignoring me so hard that smoke comes out your ears." 

"Look, Sandburg. _Blair_. I feel like things changed on us when I wasn't looking. I don't exactly know what happened, though, and I'm not sure how I'm supposed to act here." 

"Just be yourself, Jim. I wouldn't want you to strain anything." 

Never tease a man who's bigger than you when you're standing in a good six inches of water. Jim pushed me, gently, thank God, but the force didn't matter. I was already off-balance. I went down in a general flailing of arms and legs. I shouldn't have gotten so wet. But I did. Must have been all those holes in my jeans. 

Jim reached out a hand to pull me up, but I regarded him warily. How did I know this wasn't his idea of a joke? Cool the kid off. Literally. But on the other hand, I couldn't sit on the bottom of the stream much longer. The water was cold enough to freeze a guy's balls off. 

I gave in unexpectedly and all at once, there I was, a soggy, sodden mass of hair and skin plastered against Jim's warm, dry body. Good thing the temperature of the water was so low, after all. Otherwise, something _else_ would have come between us. 

I started to pull away, but Jim's arms were wrapped around me so tightly, I couldn't move. "Jim, man, let go." 

He just stared at me. Oh, shit, I thought, he's zoned. "Jim, listen to me. Follow my voice. Foll-" 

He kissed me. The man fucking kissed me. 

First thing that ran through my head was, Oh, yeah, I've been waiting for this for so long. Second thing that hit me was, What the fuck was wrong with Jim? 

All of a sudden, Jim chuckled. "You're wet, Chief." 

"Observant, too. I like that in a Sentinel." 

"Don't you want to talk about what just happened?" 

"Hell, no, I want to do it again, Jim." 

Lucky thing I dropped my fishing pole when I fell into the water. My arms were free to wrap around Jim's neck and pull his mouth closer. Only he stopped short of kissing me this time. 

"We should talk." 

"No, no, talk bad, kissing good," I whined. 

"You were the one who came up here to think. Am I at least allowed to ask you what you came up here to think _about_?" 

My arms slowly unwound themselves from his neck. I know I must have looked dazed and confused. I was. "You. Me. _Us_." 

"Your friendship is really important to me, Blair. I don't want to be the one who fucks things up, y'know?" His voice was so soft, it wafted across my lips and cheeks like the caress I could never have. 

I bit my lip so hard, I tore open a tiny piece of skin that bled freely and trickled down my chin. To my surprise, Jim's tongue flicked out and licked away the evidence of my torment. "Jim, no! That's-" 

"-dangerous?" The blue in Jim's eyes seemed to deepen as he looked intently into my eyes. "No, Blair, this is the part that's fucking dangerous." 

His eyes closed as he took my mouth. My poor, ravaged mouth. Oh, man, my insides were fluttering like a fucking Southern belle having the vapors. The longer we kissed, the more intensely my carefully hidden secret struggled to get out. Until I swore I could hear it beating its fists on the other side of my forehead. 

"I love you." 

At first it was just a whisper. But it grew louder and louder until the pounding in my head could no longer be ignored. Until finally I sobbed, "I love you!" 

My breath hitched and I began to cry as soon as my eyes opened to take in the darkness surrounding me. I was alone. Outside. Where no one could hear my cries but me...and the creatures who lived in the woods. 

* * *

I was heartbroken. It was the dream of a lifetime, but it was just that...a dream. I must have walked in my sleep during the night. That had to be how I ended up on the front porch, clutching my sleeping bag to my chest, mourning the absence of the man I loved. 

I didn't really care how I got there. All that really mattered was that Jim wasn't there. I closed my eyes and rubbed my cheek on the top of the sleeping bag. It was wet. I'd been crying in my sleep. 

"I love you," I whispered. 

"Who do you love?" 

My eyes snapped open. I'd recognize that voice anywhere. I looked down. Feet. I saw feet. Well, actually, shoes. I looked up. "Jim! What are you doing here?" 

"I followed you. I've been out surveilling the area around the cabin while you slept. Now answer the fucking question!" 

"What question?" 

"You woke yourself up sobbing "I love you!" at the top of your lungs, Sandburg. What do you mean, what question?" 

"Oh." 

"Yeah. Oh. So who do you love, Sandburg? Who made you so fucking unhappy? Who did you come up here to forget?" Jim clipped out, almost visibly shaking. 

"Jim, are you jealous?" I managed to ask. 

His voice softened as his fingertip gently wiped away a tear that trickled from beneath my eyelid. "Who put this look on your face, Chief? Huh?" 

"This is why you had to come up here by yourself, isn't it? Why you wanted time to think?" 

I couldn't speak. I was mesmerized by the look in his eyes. 

"He's not good enough for you. Whoever he is." 

"Yes, he is," I whispered, feeling tears threaten for the second time since I woke up. 

"Did you think I'd let some stranger come between us?" 

"Jim, I-" 

"Did you think I'd let you go?" 

"You did," I said, my lower lip trembling with the effort not to break down. 

"Did you think I'd let you fuck some stranger when all the time it was _me_ you wanted in your bed?" He was whispering, but his lips were so close, so achingly close, I couldn't stand not being able to kiss them. 

"Jim," I breathed against his mouth. 

"Blair," he breathed back. His hands placed on either side of my face, he tilted his head, closed his eyes, and kissed me. 

This time it was real. 

* * *

I was waiting for Prince Charming to get with the program and whisk me away to his castle. Or at the very least, his bed. But no such luck. I had to fall in love with a Sentinel who suddenly saw the wisdom in his Guide's decision. 

" _Now_?" I squeaked. " _Now_ you listen to me?" 

"Not fair, Chief. I always listen to you. It's just that occasionally...I dial you down." He grinned unrepentantly and I still wanted to kiss him. Obviously the man was a magician of some sort. 

"I _want_ you to have your time to think, Chief. So I promise to leave you absolutely positively alone while we're here." 

I took that back. The man was a _menace_. 

"What if I don't need more time to think, Jim?" 

"What about this guy you're trying to forget?" 

I shook my head slowly. "Jim, there is no guy." I placed my hands on Jim's chest, palms down. I could feel his heart thumping under my fingers. "And I could never forget _you_." 

I watched as Jim absorbed this last piece of information, his eyes kindling like a banked fire coming to life. He stared into my eyes, not even a telltale tic in his jaw giving away what he felt deep inside. Until he rasped, "Who put _this_ look on your face, Blair?" 

His hands felt warm as they caressed my face from temple to chin. I smiled and answered, "You." 

* * *

You wouldn't have thought that two people, one of them fairly big, could squeeze into one average sized sleeping bag. But we did. 

Jim stoked the fire before stripping to his shorts. I was already ensconced inside the sleeping bag. "Hurry, man," I said, wrapping my arms around my bare chest. I was glad we were both keeping our shorts on. As much as I wanted this, I didn't want to rush through the first time. It was too important. 

Jim climbed in beside me, murmuring something I couldn't quite hear. "What was that?" 

He spooned behind me, pulling my back tight to his chest. This was ten times better than anything I could have dreamed. He buried his nose in my hair and sniffed appreciatively. "I love the way you smell." 

"That wasn't what you said before that, though. What did you say?" 

I could tell that Jim was blushing. I could feel the heat in his cheeks as he hid his face against the nape of my neck. "Don't make me tell you that." 

Now I was really curious. "What on earth did you say, James?" 

His hand brushed lightly across my shoulder and upper arm. I sucked in my breath and held it. 

A moment later, Jim pulled my hair off my neck and pressed his mouth there. "I love you," he whispered. 

"Ohh," I sighed happily. I didn't need to hear another word as long as I lived. As long as I could stay wrapped in those arms. 

"I love you, too." 

When Jim didn't show any signs of claiming me, I risked a tentative glance over my shoulder. He looked quite peaceful. But that wasn't what I had in mind. 

"Um, Jim?" 

"Yeah, babe?" 

Babe? Now there was another memory for my mental scrapbook. "Are we going to-uh--?" 

"You look tired, Chief. I think we could both use a little more rest, don't you?" 

I wanted to protest, I'm not _that_ tired, but the truth was, I _was_ that tired. "Well..." 

"If I promise to hold you until we wake up?" 

"Deal, man." 

My eyes were closed faster than a bank at 3 pm. 

* * *

I thought I was dreaming again. It felt like someone was purring in my ear. Heh. Maybe Jim had changed his mind about keeping his distance. 

It was the paw on my chest that woke me up. 

"J-Jim?" 

There was nothing quite like opening your eyes to find a huge pink tongue lapping almost lovingly at the base of your throat. "Ummm..." 

Jim was gone. In his place there was a big black jaguar. I knew all about these things. I was an anthropologist. Unfortunately, there were no black jaguars in Washington State. 

Either I was dreaming...or the cat was real. I peeked anxiously at it, noting that it seemed to like me. Or was it just thinking, You look crunchy and you'd taste good with ketchup? 

"Ummm...nice kitty." 

What did you say to a big cat that obviously had designs on you? 

"Ummm...do I know you?" I asked, squinting my eyes. Yeah, right, like that would turn the cat into someone recognizable. Like Jim. Like...JIM! Jesus, for a bright guy, I could be surprisingly slow on the uptake. It had been a long time since I'd seen Jim's spirit guide, but how many black jaguars were there in our lives anyway? 

"Ummm...Jim?" 

The jaguar growled. 

"Would you like me to call you something else?" 

The jaguar cocked its head. It was probably deciding whether or not to call the men in the little white coats. After all, how many people talk to animals? Well, yeah, lots of people do. But how many expect an answer? Aha, gotcha there, didn't I? 

"Nice, um...Jim, we really need to talk. You know? Have a meaningful dialogue? Get all those little odds and ends sorted out?" I could see I was already becoming hyperverbal. While that was my usual M.O. when I felt anxious, it's not necessarily a useful trait in trying to keep a wild animal calm. 

I mean, that was the general idea, right? To soothe the savage beast? 

Only problem was, no one told the beast. No wonder he wasn't saying anything. He probably had no idea what his next line was supposed to be. But that was all right. I could help. 

"Um...Jim? You don't need to go all primal on me here. I know what you want. I want it, too. You and me, big g--" 

Gulp. I closed my eyes on the sight of that long, pink tongue lapping at my groin. If something gruesome was about to happen to Mr. Happy, I _wanted_ to be the last to know. 

Suddenly my dick was enveloped in that warm, wet tongue, the tip very gently abraded by its raspy edges. "Ohhhh!" I cried out, half with pleasure, half with alarm. 

That was when I finally _got_ it. It wasn't about sex. It was about trust. Complete and unequivocal. 

I surrendered to the big cat's ministrations. It was impossible not to be aroused by such treatment. It was so damnably erotic, having the furry beast licking my balls as though they were the finest delicacy. Ooh, no, bad choice of words. No more eating metaphors. 

Then gradually it used broader and broader strokes, indicating that it wanted me to turn over onto my stomach. I wasn't crazy about turning my back on a wild animal, but...this was no ordinary beast. 

"Jimmmmm..." I sighed helplessly and he rewarded me with a big, wet slurp that literally parted my buttocks. Oh, my God, any misgivings I had melted away like hot butter on popcorn. 

His tongue penetrated me without any effort at all. I groaned and humped the sleeping bag beneath me. My cock wanted to explode, but I wanted this to last. After all, it _was_ my first time with Jim. 

Even if he _was_ a big fucking cat. 

Again and again, I thrust my cock into the soft flannel fabric. He was fucking my ass with his tongue! Nothing could have prepared me for the feel of that. I was hopelessly spoiled. Forever. 

And when I couldn't hold back anymore, the big cat seemed to sense it. He lifted one big paw and covered my entire back with its weight, like he was claiming me. Then he did it. One of his exceedingly sharp teeth grazed my left buttock. It didn't draw blood, but it left what was sure to be a nasty pinpoint bruise. 

It hurt like the very devil. But I didn't care. I was coming at the hands, um, the paws of my quasi-mystical lover, and that was suddenly all that mattered. 

I would wear his mark proudly. Even if no one would know it was there but me. 

Oh, and Jim, of course. 

I fell off to sleep in the wet spot without a single care in the world. Imagine my surprise when I woke to the sight of a very irate Sentinel in my face. "Good morning, Chief," he purred. 

"Hi, Jim," I said, unaware that my beatific smile was pissing him off. 

He stared at my ass for so long, I thought maybe he was memorizing it. "Jim? Is something wrong?" 

"Who snuck in here last night and fucked you?" 

"Nobody, Jim." 

"Don't lie to me." 

"I'm not lying. Listen to my heart, if you don't trust me." 

He blinked and cocked his head, obviously reluctant to take my advice, but realizing that I was right. "Then who did this?" 

"What?" 

He pointed to the viciously colored little bruise that decorated my buttock. "Someone marked you." 

"You did." 

"I did not," he snapped back. "I would remember." 

"Well, Jim, you weren't exactly _yourself_ last night." 

He raised an eyebrow. "This sounds like a ghost story for Halloween." 

"You're half right. Does that count?" 

I recounted as much of the story as I could remember, which, being that I'm a fearless anthropologist, meant _everything_. "You see? You're the one who marked me." 

"Uh huh. I turned into a big black cat." 

I nodded. "Yep." 

"And what did you turn into?" 

"Me?" I frowned. "I didn't turn into anything." 

"No wolf? No nothing?" 

I shook my head. "Nope. Why?" 

"Just wondering what else I might have missed while I was "sleeping", Chief." 

"Ummm, Jim?" 

"Yeah?" He sounded so exasperated, so frustrated...so Jim. 

"You were great." 

"I was, huh?" He sounded amused despite his previous surliness. 

"Yeah. Want me to...refresh your memory?" 

"This isn't another one of your damned experiments, is it, Chief?" 

"Nope." 

And then he pinched my butt. "Ouch! What was that for?" 

"Just checking to see if you grew a tail when I wasn't looking." 

" _I_ don't have a tail. But _you_ did." 

"Oh, yeah?" 

"Uh huh." And I kissed the spot. 

Hey, he's going to thank me later. 

End 

* * *

End Soothing the Savage Beast by Silk: silkn1@att.net

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Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount. 


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